The Mayan calendar allegedly ends on this date and since it's been a while since Harold Camping last gave us a chance to mock doomsday prophecies, we've collectively latched onto this one as a sort of year-end lark. I was just about to go to bed when I saw #EndOfTheWorldConfession trending on Twitter and I got to wondering, "What if?" Well, here you go, Dear Reader. Something I've kept from even my closest of friends for decades.
I was in fourth grade, a new student at Centerfield Elementary. Half of my neighborhood had already been going to that school, but for whatever reason, my half was not. They redistricted us so that the whole subdivision went to the one school. The short version is that I was not very well accepted - by students or faculty.
One afternoon, for reasons never explained to me, I was invited to sit at the cool kids table. It was pretty obvious that I was being set up for mockery, but I thought I'd play along and see where it went. Somehow or other, I found myself challenged to a milk chugging contest by the star basketball player. I'd never deliberately chugged milk in my life, though I can guzzle with the best of 'em. I shrugged and so we started this stupid little contest.
Except that a few chugs in, the stupidity of it all hit me and I began to laugh.
In case it's been a while since you last watched a Three Stooges short, let me remind you that it is impossible to drink and laugh simultaneously. Chocolate milk went flying out of my mouth, onto my food tray and across the table. I couldn't control myself at that point. I dropped my carton of milk, spilling most of the rest of it. I ruined a perfectly good rectangular slice of cheese pizza. I was invited to leave the table. I was not invited to ever return to it.
Now, the confession part. The part I've never told publicly.
I peed my pants laughing.
I was content to let it be thought that I'd spilled the milk on my lap, which I actually did. But try as I might, I laughed so hard that I could not stop myself from peeing. In the fourth grade. At the cool kids table. Because chugging milk is stupid.
So there you have it, Dear Reader. My End-of-the-World confession. What do I care if you know? We won't be here tomorrow.